Room to Breathe
The beaches and parks are open for day use only, no camping. All fees waived.
The coast was crystal clear. Few people. All of the tourists and weekenders gone. The campsites were closed and barricaded. Most of the locals carried fishing rods or dog leashes attached to a family dog.
It was quiet out on the coast. I could hear the waves lap against the sand. I watched a crab boat head out to the bay.
When we first arrived, a herd of deer were in the middle of the road. They played with each other, leaping into the air, only moving over slowly as one car passed through.
The traffic of RVs, sports cars, Vans and SUVs almost nonexistent.
Passing by the two cafes selling crabs and clam chowder, one was closed, the other open for takeout with only a couple of customers ordering through the window. The line that usually wraps around the picnic area almost touching the main road was gone.
After getting our fill of salt air and sea, we headed back to town driving slowly, watching out for locals walking the country roads. There are more people walking alone, and some in couples. Most of them with dogs. I bet the dogs are happy being walked now, several times a day.
We stopped at another park, usually it costs $7, today it was free. We watched a red tail hawk try to hunt moles in the soccer field, his attempts diverted by two angry crows chasing him off. We watched the scene play over and over. I asked my partner, "do you like this better than Netflix." He shook his head yes, and said "it's more peaceful ".
We are both nature hounds. We can't get enough.
During our travels, we check in with each other. "Are you okay?". "How's your chest feel, your throat?". We touch each others foreheads checking for heat.
We share herbs, syrups, and vitamins from our backpacks.
We continue on, searching for hawks hunting in the sky.